"G-Gōngzǐ… the taste really is bad. You were about to get sick earlier. You should not force it again…" Lìngxiāo tried to stop him formally, his hand frozen in place, held back by the dignity he might lose tonight.
"You are resisting. That only sharpens my suspicion of you." Chóng Fēi stated.
Everyone nodded in agreement, bolstering Chóng Fēi's confidence—even if it was fake.
Their faces showed they were waiting to be on Lìngxiāo's side. The matter was clear: they had summoned him, but they were not ready to trust him.
'Oh Lord. What should I do?'
"Gōngzǐ—" Lìngxiāo tried again, hopelessly.
"No Gōngzǐ or anything else. I am trying. Period." With that, Chóng Fēi pressed his mouth to the rim of the bowl.
'No, Almighty Lord of Earth, I request you…'
Lìngxiāo's eyes shut tightly. His lips pressed into a thin line. He turned his face away, his hand fan snapping open in lightning speed—just to hide his eyes and his mouth.
He could not watch. He could not stop it, for the first time in years, he felt something badly close o fear.
His hands and his qì never worked properly whenever he was caught off guard. He could not stand the thought of anyone putting their mouth where he had just placed his—yet he can't speak of this strange problem either.
A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead, hidden behind his brown hair. His pulse quickened, just slightly.
His smile twitched faintly. "Unfortunately, I am too aware of my appearance. Perhaps that is why, Chóng Gōngzǐ…"
Chóng Fēi looked at Lìngxiāo, then at the bowl, then at his people. Their mouths moved as if his gaze were a warning.
"Y-Yes, of course! Lìngxiāo Gōngzǐ did not react the way we all did," one spoke first—the one Chóng Fēi glared at directly.
"Indeed. Who thinks about dignity when their mouth is burning with a taste like… like someone's leftover food?"
"We agree with Chóng Gōngzǐ."
"Gōngzǐ only touched the soup with his mouth. He did not even swallow."
"He might not have even smelled it."
Lìngxiāo said nothing.
It was clear those people were puppets of this clan, saying whatever Chóng Fēi's gaze commanded.
"See? Now allow me to prove you wrong." Without warning, Chóng Fēi took the bowl from Lìngxiāo's hands.
Lìngxiāo's gaze snapped to him in disbelief.
His smile trembled with horrified nervousness—not about what Chóng Fēi might find out, but about watching him taste the same bowl he had just used.
'Oh Lord! Why does he ask for my statements if they are useless? He will not let me investigate properly. And now this nonsense?'
"G-Gōngzǐ… the taste really is bad. You were about to get sick earlier. You should not force it again…" Lìngxiāo tried to stop him formally, his hand frozen in place, held back by the dignity he might lose tonight.
"You are resisting. That only sharpens my suspicion of you." Chóng Fēi stated.
Everyone nodded in agreement, bolstering Chóng Fēi's confidence—even if it was fake. Their faces showed they were waiting to be on Lìngxiāo's side. The matter was clear: they had summoned him, but they were not ready to trust him.
'Oh Lord. What should I do?'
"Gōngzǐ—" Lìngxiāo tried again, hopelessly.
"No Gōngzǐ or anything else. I am trying. Period." With that, Chóng Fēi pressed his mouth to the rim of the bowl.
'No…'
Lìngxiāo's eyes shut tightly. His lips pressed into a thin line. He turned his face away, his hand fan snapping open in lightning speed—just to hide his eyes and his mouth.
He could not watch. He could not stop it.
And for the first time in years, he felt something close to fear.
His hands and his qì never worked properly whenever he was caught off guard.
But unfortunately—Chóng Fēi threw away the soup more aggressively than his own one, as if it had burned him.
He flung the bowl aside, rubbing his mouth clean with wide, disbelieving eyes as he looked around the room. Others held their noses or raised their hand fans to hide their mouths.
"How the FUCK does someone stay composed after even touching their mouth over it?!" Chóng Fēi's breath came shallow with anger and confusion.
No one said a word. They just peeked at Lìngxiāo, waiting for his unexpected reaction.
"Is he alright…?" one whispered.
"I have never seen him this way," another nodded.
"Who cares if he flinches? Stay quiet. Or be the sacrifice." A third man hissed to the other two.
On the other hand, Lìngxiāo was barely listening. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks—not from shyness, but from a deep, visceral discomfort. He had not felt this exposed in years. The bowl, the shared rim, the fact that Chóng Fēi had just put his mouth where Lìngxiāo's had been—it made his skin crawl.
It was slightly disgusting, of course. To him, it was humiliation.
But his lips would not obey him. They stayed carved into that familiar, gentle smile, as if glued there by habit. He could not stop it.
'How could he? He has just tasted my used bowl—which I pretended to throw up. Is it even something to warn someone as arrogant as him? He has… he has technically drunk—!'
Even his thoughts were interrupted by Chóng Fēi.
"Now answer me this too. How did you not throw it up like this? You know how rotten, salty, and poison-like it was? Did you put poison in the food on purpose, knowing you would not be affected?!" Chóng Fēi gripped Lìngxiāo by his shoulder.
His breath caught too sharply from the sharp pull. It felt strange—not being able to show proper embarrassment while his mouth refused to let him.
He looked like he was blushing—which he definitely was not.
When Chóng Fēi saw a hint of human reaction from him, even he looked at Lìngxiāo as if dreaming. He blinked twice, his mouth opening and closing before he managed to ask, a little too roughly than before, "Why are you blushing at me? Have I said anything like that? Your everything has been strange since the hour you stepped inside this clan."
'He is going to ruin my already cracked identity in front of everyone. This is too much. I cannot be respectful with him without sacrificing my dignity.'
Lìngxiāo swallowed hard, tightly composing his face with the remaining mistaken flush while his hand fan moved faster, as if a physical form of his distress he was trying to cool down. His smile darkened with mixed emotions.
When he met Chóng Fēi's gaze once more, the breathing of the room seemed changed—not only his own, but something else only he knew was roaming around.
"You have been deliberately humiliating me, Gōngzǐ. And I am not appreciating it." The next words from Lìngxiāo came colder than the warmth still clinging to the skin of his cheeks.
He remembered he had not sharply moved away the hand—at least not like hurting. But it ended up being too violently sharp.
The normal pushing away of a hand from a shoulder became a disaster.
Chóng Fēi's eyes widened. Too hard then it should have been in pain.
He looked as if the whole air from his lungs had been squeezed away.